


Another Story

by tea_after_dark



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series, Shin Megami Tensei
Genre: Akechi Goro Attends Shujin Academy, Akechi is not a detective, Akechi is not a murderer, Author does whatever she wants, Bullying, Foster Care, Futaba is a good friend, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Japan also has the American foster care system for some reason, Japan has the Crisis Text Line, Mishima is a third-year, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sojiro's A+ parenting, The Metaverse doesn't exist, Wakaba and Haru's dad are still dead, he really tries, no beta we die like men, so does Futaba, so is Mishima, those three make one weird trio, yes MISHIMA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_after_dark/pseuds/tea_after_dark
Summary: Maybe in some other universe there existed an alternate cognitive world, an avenue through which people could be driven to psychotic breakdowns and distorted hearts could be changed. Maybe there were even heroes who fought for justice simply for the sake of giving hope to those who suffer at the hands of others. Maybe. But not in this universe. Here, there was no Metaverse, no Phantom Thieves, no supernatural murders, and most certainly, no sudden miracles. But it didn’t stop him from praying for one.Alternatively,Sojiro becomes a foster parent, inspired by his success in adopting Futaba, and takes in Goro Akechi who has been circulating through the system for a little too long.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	Another Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everybody!
> 
> Thank you for taking your time to check out this fic. Unfortunately, I am going to have to postpone this project indefinitely just because life sometimes has other plans. I might resume work on it some day, but I would not count on that. 
> 
> It's a shame for me too because I had the whole plot planned out. Plus, I really do love these characters. Oh well.
> 
> Thanks anyways, stay safe, and don't let corona man bite!

Today’s the day.

The weather is nice. Bright and serene. 

Sojiro moves through Leblanc as the morning sun bathes the cafe in a warm, brilliant light. Stopping in his tracks in an attempt to jolt himself back to reality, he gazes at the stream of light flooding the tiled floors. Not only is it strong enough to illuminate every dust particle suspended in the air but it also manages to brighten up the entirety of the typically dark and dreary cafe. Even the imperfections in the woodwork faintly glimmer in the sunlight’s embrace.

It’s perfect. Just what he wanted. 

Sojiro can barely believe it. 

Thinking about the full implications of finally receiving a foster placement had been too overwhelming. Although a placement signaled the start of a new chapter in his life, there was a distinct finality to it that he wasn’t so sure he liked. Simply put, things were going to change. No. That’s a gross oversimplification. Everything was going to be different.  
And yet, the preparations for welcoming this long-awaited child home felt so simple, so … routine. It felt as if this was the natural, predestined progression of his life. As if every decision he made previously existed solely for the purpose of propelling him to this present day. 

It’s already 10:40 am. _He_ should be arriving soon.

Sojiro’s first impression absolutely has to be delivered perfectly. 

He continues scanning the cafe interior with an unfixed gaze as he reviews the mental list of household preparation tasks he compiled since yesterday. Thoroughly clean the cafe? Check. Transform the attic into a habitable environment suitable for human beings? Check. Stockpile different kinds of food in the fridge? Double check. Take out the garbage? Naturally. Make sure he has access to clean towels and linens? Yes... Make his bed? 

Ah, so that’s what’s been bothering him.

Gloriously relieved that he didn’t forget and somewhat proud for having remembered, Sojiro calls for Futaba who has been rushing erratically between the attic, his home, and the first floor of Leblanc since early morning. Any other day he would restrain Futaba from running about so capriciously and disturbing customers, but today is a special occasion. Even though it’s Sunday, Sojiro closed down the cafe for the entire day to allow them both the comfort of focusing solely on receiving this placement. No music plays, and the mellow quiet welcomes an oddly refreshing atmosphere. In a way, it feels like a holiday. Sojiro can’t help but sense a small smile creeping onto his face as if from childish glee. 

“Hey, Futaba?” he calls out, slightly taken aback by how raspy his morning voice is.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please make his bed since you’re up there? I think I put the linens on the coffee table.”

“Okey ... found ‘em!” comes a faintly delayed but nevertheless enthusiastic response. 

He can hear her small, muffled footsteps through the ceiling as she scurries to take care of the bed. It’s remarkable just how thin the ceiling must be to make an activity like walking resonate with that much clarity. Honestly, sometimes he wonders how he ever managed to get licensed in the first place. _They must be pretty desperate to willingly turn a blind eye to an attic._

Releasing a pent up sigh he wasn’t aware of holding, Sojiro slowly lowers his gaze on the uniform, polished counter. With nothing left to do but wait, he becomes painfully aware of the nervous anticipation that’s been building up inside of him all day. The acute sensation resembles a growing weight slowly rising up from the pit of his stomach and constricting his chest. It’s oddly invigorating, but the kind of excitement it invites easily converts itself into fear with each oncoming wave of doubts.

He even picks up a tiny, fleeting voice in his head that’s telling him to abandon everything he worked so hard for and back out before he crosses the point of no return. What if he’s making a grave mistake deciding to become a foster parent? What if he fails as a guardian and just winds up psychologically exhausted, having wasted his time for absolutely nothing? What if it’s too much?

Sojiro is well acquainted with this voice. He’s listened to it countless times before when he was emotionally preparing himself to ask out Wakaba, when he was planning to open up Leblanc, and when he was signing Futaba’s adoption paperwork. The desperate, last-minute onslaught of doubts betrays nothing else but a futile resistance to change. A fear of stepping far outside his comfort zone. Finding the culprit, Sojiro softly chuckles to himself and lightheartedly brushes away all traces of the fear. Still, it’s the good kind of fear.

 _He was partially expecting to feel this way today since his worries aren’t altogether irrational._

After all, he is, at least partially, “green.” He has never attempted fostering unfamiliar children in his home before, and the only knowledge of the system that he possesses has been haphazardly gathered from training sessions, rushed conversations with caseworkers, and vastly different personal stories salvaged from the depths of the internet. Together, the ill-fitted puzzle pieces brought to life something close to an amalgamation of the child welfare system that doesn’t even believe in itself. Realistically speaking, there is no way for him to be fully prepared for whatever is about to come. 

All Sojiro knows is that the child, no, _the youth_ , has been tossed around many placements, experienced undisclosed amounts of physical abuse, and will age out of the system within a year. Yikes. 

He has done enough research to understand exactly what each of these indicators imply. The aforementioned abuse, compounded with repeated placement transfers, suggests an extremely high probability of serious behavioral issues alongside attachment difficulties. Furthermore, mental health problems, particularly the infamous curse of PTSD, probably also come as a package deal. Finally, the older age insinuates that, depending on the magnitude of the referenced behavioral issues, this youth’s actions may potentially become a legitimate threat to his and Futaba’s safety. In other words, this might very well turn out to be a _particularly difficult child._

However, none of that matters. To Sojiro, all of these difficulties are but a reasonable price to pay for improving the life of a child who may have known nothing but pain and neglect. He would happily abandon his emotional comfort zone to have the opportunity to build a brighter future for somebody who had been denied the blessing of a loving home. If the empty room above Leblanc could act as somebody’s sanctuary, then so be it. These children have suffered enough. And if he wasn’t willing to open his heart and home to embrace a child, then who would?

He thinks back on what inspired him to become a foster parent in the first place. 

Futaba. 

He still remembers the miserable, shivering ball of fear she was before he adopted her. How she would cower from any word raised even a decibel higher, making herself visibly smaller as if instinctually preparing to take a beating. How she would lock herself in her room for weeks, isolating herself from all forms of social contact. How she would inhale as much food as physically possible whenever it was offered to her yet remain sinisterly slim. 

But with time and effort, she grew under his care. She is no longer a lonely girl who would prefer to be ignored but an intelligent, energetic young lady who, albeit still lacking some fundamental social skills, confidently expresses her feelings and never fails to lift Sojiro’s spirits with her eccentric humor. To him, his day never truly begins until he sees her joyful, mischievous smile. Even though getting to a place where they could both be happy together took one arduous journey, he would do it all over again if it meant she could keep that smile. Everything was worth it, and he would be beyond grateful to reach another child in need.

Futaba is his inspiration. And she too is excited.

_______

Just as Sojiro reaches a satisfying conclusion in his mental journey, Futaba rushes downstairs, practically beaming disorganized anticipation. 

“All done!” she exclaims in her ringing voice as she gracefully plops down behind one of the cafe tables. The moment of silence is disturbed as she forcefully sinks her small frame into the cushioned body of the couch. Shedding some of the more explosive excitement, she stares into the distance as if carving holes into the glass front door with her glare. 

Some minutes pass before either of them makes a noise. She fumbles a little with her sleeves before saying in a shamefully hesitant tone, “I don’t know why but I can’t help but feel a little nervous.” The cadence of her voice is more measured as she speaks, something Sojiro knows to mean that she’s feeling vulnerable. She furrows her brow gently, as if externalizing her conflicted emotions. “My heart is beating so fast; I can even hear it ringing in my ears. There’s nothing wrong with me feeling this way, right?”

“No, of course not.” Sojiro steps from behind the counter and walks over to Futaba’s table to reassure her. 

“Futaba, this is completely normal. Both of us have been waiting so long for this day that it’s hard to believe any of this is even real.” Sojiro makes sure to warm up his gaze and soften his smile as he addresses Futaba’s worries. He finds himself adding an extra ring to his usually smooth voice and gesticulating to further emphasize his points, as if trying to shake off some of his own emotion. “I’m sure that we’ve both built this day up in our imaginations so much that it's hard to predict what to expect anymore. Just, don't worry, alright? We just have to believe that everything will work out in the best way possible.”

Their gazes locked, Futaba feels a comforting wave of reassurance wash over her. Cautious to take such hopeful words at face value, she takes a moment to examine Sojiro’s eyes for any signs of hidden hesitation. Finding none, she sighs. 

“Alright.” 

Futaba’s nervous smile relaxes a bit around the edges. Proud of his small victory, Sojiro playfully patts her on the head. She immediately giggles, bringing her hands up to rearrange her slightly ruffled hair. It’s a small moment, but so precious. Sojiro can only hope that there will be plenty more of such moments soon to come. 

Just as the tense atmosphere dissipates, there is a knocking at the front door.

It’s him.


End file.
